to drown in your love
by your candy perfume girl
Summary: Snow White will never understand, because she is not like Regina. Some terrible sin, probably one of her mother's, stained Regina's soul before she was even born, and goodness will not touch her. But Mother will. She loves Regina as the wicked are to be loved. Spoilers for the promo for 2.15, "The Queen Is Dead." Warning: incest, language.


**Disclaimer** — _Once Upon a Time_ is the property of ABC and Horowitz/Kitsis. I make no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this exercise in creativity.

**Warnings** — incest, fisting, language

**Author's Note** — Cora and Regina have magic. You do not. Thus, when fisting, please be sure to use plenty of lube, and to practice safe sex in general. :)

* * *

"All she wants is power," Snow says, her voice so soft and sweet. Deceptive, like in her childhood. "She doesn't care about you."

Once, Regina feared the same. As she undressed each night, stripping away layers of fine fabric that her unladylike clumsiness had rendered wrinkled and dirty, her mirror revealed the red welts and purple bruises that marred her skin and the faded tear tracks, silvery in the moonlight, that stained her cheeks. All throughout the day, she tried to pretend that they weren't there, that she couldn't feel her injuries as she moved or the sharp, stinging urge to cry, but her mirror never allowed her to continue that lie at night. _This isn't love_, her reflection whispered, sowing poisonous doubts in her mind as Regina covered her ears, trying so hard not to listen even as the tears welled in her eyes. _She doesn't love you; she loves what you can give her. Power._

Regina broke her mirror the night that Daniel died, shattering it with a well-aimed hairbrush after its cries became too much. Her reflection still screamed from the shards on the floor, though, and Regina sobbed herself to sleep that night, unable to silence her doubts any longer.

But she knows better now. Cora's arms snake around Regina's waist as her breasts press into Regina's back, and she _knows_. "I need you so badly," Cora moans against Regina's throat as her hands roam, caressing and cupping flesh, tearing enthusiastically at Regina's clothes. Her lips seek out Regina's, and Regina submits to her, letting her take what she pleases, because it's been so long since anyone actually wanted her, actually touched her with desire and didn't imagine that they were touching someone else.

Before Regina has time to even take a breath, Cora has her naked and flat on her back, spread and waiting and so, so willing. "I need you right now," Cora pants, and oh, that word (_need, need, need __**you**_) really shouldn't make Regina as wet as it does. Nor should the sensation of her mother's lips trailing a series of feather-light kisses from Regina's mouth down to linger on her breasts and tease her nipples into hard, aching nubs make her buck her hips and grind her bare, slick cunt into her mother's thigh. Despite what some may think, Regina is neither stupid nor deranged; she knows that what she's doing is a crime against nature. But then, her entire existence has consisted of one broken law after the next, and the room is just so full of love that the very air is humming with it. Cora's hands and lips are soft and gentle, her touches born of love and devotion instead of anger or disappointment or disgust, and Regina cannot even _imagine_ refusing this. She's like a parched little girl caught in a rainstorm as the river spills over its banks.

Cora moves lower, sweeping down to Regina's navel, then on to her inner thigh, and Regina feels like sobbing at the slow torment. "Mama, _please_," she pleads, and that's all that she has to say. Without delay, Cora's mouth moves where Regina wants it most, swirling and flicking and penetrating in a way that immediately makes her arch off of the bed, grasp desperately at the bedsheets, and emit a noise closer to a scream than a moan. This won't take long tonight — although, with Cora, it rarely does.

After a minute or two, Cora's tongue retreats, replaced by three fingers that push inside of her without preamble and make her cry out happily. Her mother works her fingers at a slow pace that has Regina whining with need, and she eventually adds a fourth finger with little trouble. It's not until Regina feels her mother's thumb straining with the rest of her fingers that she stalls. "Mama," she begins, trying to regulate the level of panic in her voice, "what are you doing?"

"I'm loving you," Cora answers, smiling as she leans forward to catch Regina's lips in a light kiss. She smooths Regina's hair with her free hand as she adds, "Don't shut me out, darling. Mommy's here. Just let me love you, my sweet girl."

And Regina can't say no to an offering of love from her mother, not now, not then, not ever, so she leans back and inhales slowly through her nose as Cora's fingers push farther and farther inside. She sees Cora smile, sees her lips form the word, "There," but there's no sound, because it suddenly _hits_ her. It's so much everywhere, all at one time; everything is so bright, and her pulse is so loud, and it feels as if every nerve in her body is firing, registering everything at once. Her mother's fist takes up so much space inside of her, filling this empty hole she'd long thought to be a permanent part of herself, and it's just too much for Regina to handle all at once. Words are beyond her capabilities, her tongue and lips and vocal chords fumbling in disharmony; all that she can manage is a gasp and a whimper as Cora flexes her hand, gently pumping it back and forth. Her back arches, and her thighs tremble violently, and she can't _do_ anything, can't beg or force or make anything happen. All that she can do is writhe helplessly on her mother's fist, craving an end that she hopes will never come.

Cora watches her move with an intensely hungry, possessive expression; her eyes are dark, her eyelids lowered, and her lips are parted and wet. Regina locks eyes with her, and through the rush of blood in her ears, she hears the words, "Mine. My Regina."

The feat is nearly impossible, but for her mother, for the only one who ever claimed her out of love and lived to tell the tale, Regina manages it. "Yours," she moans, and Cora's face just lights up. "Always yours." And then, Cora delivers: she twists her wrist and moves her knuckles in a way that feels deliberate, and Regina comes with a loud, sharp cry. Everything disappears; she forgets who she is and what she's done, all the people she wanted to love her who betrayed her instead. For a few blessed moments, there is nothing but unending, unyielding pleasure.

And it's all because Cora loves her.

She wouldn't expect Snow White to understand. In spite of her treachery, of the death that follows her wherever she goes, good has embraced Snow and refused to relinquish its grip on her. She had a father who loved her, who sheltered her from harm and sorrow, who never touched her with a dark motive. In this way, her late husband is the type of parent that Regina strives to be to Henry, because her son, unlike his relatives, is full of goodness and light; he deserves only the purest form of love there is. She would never love him the way that Cora loves her.

No, Snow White will never understand, because she is not like Regina. Somehow, even though her heart is as dark and full of evil as Regina's is, she manages to pass as good. Regina, on the other hand, was born unavoidably, irredeemably wicked. She's tried so hard, over and over again, to be good, to be _worthy_ of pure love, the kind of love that never hurts, but the side of the light has rejected her every single time. Some terrible sin, probably one of her mother's, stained her soul before she was even born, and goodness will not touch her.

But Mother will. She loves Regina as the wicked are to be loved. She loves Regina so much that she hurt her over and over again in order to make her stronger, so that she could survive. She loves Regina enough to kill. She loves Regina enough to take away her pain, to allow her to forget her wickedness and sorrow and just be free for a moment.

Regina is still coming down from her orgasm when Cora finally frees her hand and lies down on the mattress beside her daughter. Once she catches her breath, Regina curls up at her mother's side, resting her head on her mother's chest and reveling in the comforting warmth of her embrace. "My sweet girl," Cora says as she lovingly strokes Regina's sweaty, tangled hair. She presses her lips against Regina's forehead for a long moment. "My good girl."

It's not true, but it means the world to Regina that Cora's said it anyway, because _this_ is how much her mother loves her. Cora loves her enough to lie to her, to allow her to believe that she is good, favored. Cora loves her enough to give her hope that there is a happy ending out there for her as well, that she even deserves such a thing.

Snow White will never understand, but Regina does. She understands perfectly.

There is no one in this realm or the next that loves Regina more than Cora does.


End file.
